with every move, i die
by gustin puckerman
Summary: I'm dancing with tears in my eyes. Collection of ficlets revolve around Will&Magenta, and a little Warren&Layla.
1. self destruct

**Yes. I do realize it is year 2012, when Sky High was published in year 2005. I'm not just late, in fact I am writing in the Will&Magenta section, which I have searched and found out _no one_ wrote about. Which, I have to admit, is a disappointment, because I do believe such great tragedy/epic/awesome stories could have come out from these couple. The idea of them was born into my delusional brain because I shipped Warren/Layla together, and I realize those fanfic writers who wrote Warren/Layla together usually have Magenta and Will interaction- and my sicko brain just thought 'hey, wouldn't that be _some_ couple?' and then, like an afterthought, it added, 'yeah. you're shipping them together.**'

**Anyways, here it is! Ficlets about Magenta/Will, and I will throw some of Warren/Layla together along the way. No, I will not update this regularly. Unless you have a word that could inspire me, and trigger my brain to make sentences into a whole short ficlet**.

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the rightful owner(s**)

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self-destruction

will&magenta

.

"I like you, Magenta," he tells her one summer night.

She likes to look at stars during the nights. To her, stars and universe are the only way she could escape the cruel, cruel world. She could close her eyes and dream she's somewhere, far away, from the face of the earth- because it's a good feeling, and she just _can_. She doesn't know how he starts to mingle his way through her routine though- but it has something to do with him being all alone the whole summer because his pretty, wonderful girlfriend, Layla is at some volunteer-thing to build houses for animals and all that stuff she doesn't care about, and she somehow ends up being his summer-partner.

She closes her eyes, feeling the grasses around her caresses her cheeks. "You're lying," she replies, her voice is blank and emotionless.

(_nobody likes her. mama doesn't like her. papa's gone from this world. she doesn't even like herself_.)

She hears he snorts, "I'm not lying. I like you, Magenta. You're cool and you're funny."

She wants to roll her eyes and smack him right at his head, but she doesn't. Nobody calls her funny- girl with a serious case of sarcastic remarks and venomous words, maybe- but not funny. But then again, give it to Will Stronghold to say things like that. He's so nice, so innocent, so pure (she feels all dirty and sinful and painted with blackness when she's besides him).

"You're an idiot," she says finally, because she wants her words to hurt him, to _push him away_- before they all drown into some kind of black-hole that could only leads to such awful destruction (_awful destruction which meant only for her _) and she doesn't want that. He's meant for something better, not some_thing_ like her.

But, _of course_, he laughs. And it pains her, but she has to admit she's getting used to his bubbly, all-boyish laughter. "You always say that," he responds, a smile playing on his lips.

She opens her eyes and turns to him, "That's because it's true."

He frowns, and she smiles (slowly), "I'm not an idiot."

"Yes, you are," she taunts, because it's always fun to mock him- and her chest tightens of how natural _this_ (being together, alone) feels to her. She hates the feeling when she's with him; as if she has let her guard down and she _never does that_.

He stares at her, a playful smile still lingers on his lips and she holds her face in-check, when all along her heartbeat rates quicken. "I really do like you, M" he says, his voice is smooth and gentle (_he's not good for her, she's not good for him_), but she says nothing, only closing her eyes and giving him a silent signal she knows he would understand, that the conversation is over and he better shuts up.

He does.

.

Her mama has always said she's good-for-nothing, and maybe because she lives with those words plant inside of her head, she starts to believe it. She tells him that he should run along now and not bother her, and whatever 'form of friendship' they have over the summer would stay in summer and meant nothing to her (_lies, lies, lies_). She can tell she hits a spot when his face changes - gone the once gentle and caring expression he always holds - and that's the end of that.

Maybe mama's right- maybe she's natural at chasing people away.

And now, she's just a lost, lost soul waiting for her destruction- (and she knows, deep down inside, he could have helped her, but it doesn't matter now, does it? She has always been alone, maybe things are meant to stay that way.)


	2. coffee friend

**Ficlets is, by definition of Wikipedia the Free Encyclopedia, _very_ short stories between 64- and 1,024-bytes in length. So, yeah. This are to all of those who wonders. ****And Magenta's background are the same throughout this ficlets collection- her father was the one who have powers, but he's dead. Her mother is always drunk and mentally-abuse Magenta by telling her millions type of reasons of why people hate her, how she isn't worth it. And it has always affect her, even though she tried to not let it show. Obviously I think there is _supposed_ to be a reason why Magenta is the way she is, right**? **So, on with the next one**!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s**)

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coffee-friend

will&magenta

.

She has always been the girl who doesn't think twice of covering her words, and maybe it's the way she looks at people (if looks could kill, she'd be a serial killer) that he doesn't favour her too much. She has always been closer to Layla rather than him, so it doesn't really matter. But still, the mere presence of her being there in the same room as him has always bother him. He thinks she hates him, which he shouldn't be finding it as a surprise, considering Magenta practically loathe most living creatures- but he does. He does feel surprise, and he feels as though he had done something wrong.

And he _hates_ feeling guilty.

And by the end of the day, Magenta _is_ a friend- and that makes everything much worse. Because he hates feeling guilty towards a friend. And he tries all sort of ways to be friends with her, like _really friends_ with her. Saying 'hi' whenever he sees her, or asking 'how are you?' and such, but it all fails. She has this monotone voice that cuts you through your core, and makes you want to crawl in the corner and cries. Which is a bad thing. (Honestly, she might as well pull him inside out, or rip him in half better than to let him be haunted by her words all day long!)

It's half-way through sophomore year when things are going down hill with Layla, and everything he sees or thinks feel wrong. He doesn't know where he is flying and where he's walking right now, but he doesn't give a damn. When he decides to sit on a bench at a quiet street, he doesn't listen to the sound of her boots against the pavement when it walks up to him. "Stripes," that's what she calls him- stripes, for the white and red in his every blue shirt. "What're you doing here?"

He looks up, mind fuzzy and eyes blurry. He squints, "Mag-Magenta?"

She doesn't say anything, just keep coming until she's a few feet away. "Somethin' wrong, blue?" That's another nickname. Blue.

He shakes his head, "No. No, nothing's wrong," his words are slow.

She tilts her head to one side, and bluntly replies, "Liar."

He's quiet, eyes cast downwards. It feels like hours pass and the night becomes colder. She's just standing there, with that bored look on her face staring straight at him, and him, eyes on the floor as he tries to keep his emotion and the shivering in check. He's super strong, alright- but not cold-proof. He purses his lips and tries to sit straighter. She sighs. "It's Layla, isn't it?" she says, her words comes out shooting at him, and he feels as if he's being stab at.

He doesn't say anything, just sits there with the coldness sipping his bone.

She lets out another sigh, ruffling her messy hair. "C'mon, let's get you coffee- before you die or something."

He doesn't like the way she says it, like she's ordering him around and expects him to follow, but he doesn't argue. She takes his hands, her thumb brushes over his knuckles and something stings inside. He comes to look at her, but her expression shows nothing. She stuffs his left hand into her coat's pocket and lead the way. With her boots stomping the pavement of a quiet street that night, he hears she mutter, "The cafe's just around the corner- jus' hold on," and he finds himself relaxes in her touch.

Maybe, a nice cup of coffee and someone to talk to, is just what he needs after all.

(he spontaneously squeezes her hand and let himself smile, if only a little bit)

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**_Fin_**.


	3. good

**Totally forgot about this. Thanks to the three reviews I've gotten, I was reminded of this beautiful pairing. So, this is the next update. Remember, with every chapter, there is no connection among each other except for the basic information shared in the movies and about Magenta's background that I wrote about all in the last Author's Note. Anyway, sit back, relax and try to enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s)**.

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good

will&magenta

She always find his good-natured personality to be a little... mellow. Mushy. Kind of fishy at times, too.

He's just too much of a boy-scout, all-American and clean. Too perfect. Not a crinkle on his always red-white-blue shirt and a good whole-heartedly smile to please the world. And God, is he coming straight out of a novel or something? Magenta's pretty sure even the guys in novels have faults. Flaws people can connect with. But Will? No. He's just that. He's just _nice_.

Simply put.

But kind of adorable too.

It's not that she always find him adorable all of the holy hour of time - just like, sometimes. When he puts on that half-grin smiles as he hands her a hot chocolate with marshmallow on a very cold, winter day or kisses her out of nowhere while in the hallways, or flies her to Paris every time she had a big fight with Mom - and it's like cheesy and stuff, but it's kind okay you know because they're dating and he _can_ and he's just that and nobody can tell him otherwise. Unfortunately, not even her. But she guesses it's okay too.

She just - she likes that, you know? Feeling like that sometimes. It feels nice ... and warm and fuzzy on the inside like a little teddy bear just hugs you and when you're looking through Will's eyes, it's like you're feeling like that most of the times anyway.

Like that one time after a really bad fever and she had to take this medicine that she supposed she was allergic to because after taking it, she immediately got this rash that consumed her legs and made her look like a walking red meat with dots, and she's just there looking at her patterned skin murmuring how ugly she was and Will just came, got on his knees, touched the surface (she always like the way he touches - so soft and gentle and ghost-like) and decided, "Nah. You're still beautiful."

Then, he bent down and kissed her knees.

Like, how mushy was that? So ... _Will_, right?

But Magenta - even though she finds herself pretty overwhelm with his whole heroic and gentle profile, she feels, you know - kinda good too.

(because, yeah, whatever, but she likes it.)

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**_Fin_**.


End file.
